Money and Mercury
by AngelofPrey
Summary: Emma is a working class girl who suddenly finds herself forging a friendship with Storybrooke's infamous eccentric recluse. But nothing is ever really as it seems. And as their relationship develops Emma finds that there are more sinister forces at work in Jefferson's life than he even seems to be conscious of. Victorian AU MadSwan with background FrankenWolf
1. Meeting

A/N: Written for the Mad Swan Secret Santa 2013 for Tumblr user weatherwaxstudios, who gave me the prompt of a Victorian AU, and my imagination went a little nuts…

Writing Emma in a Victorian setting was a doozy. I'm still not sure if I found the right balance between the firecracker that she is in the show, and the kind of person she'd have to be if she was living in Victorian era America. Jefferson, unsurprisingly, didn't really have to change all that much. Part deux will be up shortly.

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Act I

The house down the road at the edge of the woods was haunted, some said. Others claimed that the man who lived there was a cannibal, or a baby-eater, or maybe even one of those vampire-creatures like in the story from the weekly serials written by that Irish gentleman. The official account changed depending on the person you asked, but popular opinion agreed that no one normal lived in that house. But Emma Swan didn't believe in all that stuff-and-nonsense that so delighted the town's gossips, and children. Emma wasn't even sure that anyone lived at number 316 Forrest Road, never mind something so exotic as a cannibal or a vampire. The facts of the matter were these: since the current occupant of number 316 Forrest Road moved into the house five years ago, no one in the small town of Storybrooke, Maine had ever seen them come or go. The only visitors they ever received was Dr. Victor Whale, the physician who came to Storybrooke every few weeks to check up on the town's folk who couldn't make it all the way to Augusta for their appointments. The house never received any post, but the general store on Main Street had instructions to deliver certain groceries and other household items on a regular basis, but aside from that, whomever lived in the house did so without any contact with the outside world.

Naturally, after a week of this type of behavior people became curious. It was only polite to invite one's neighbors over for tea when someone new entered into a neighborhood, but all the invitations went unanswered. This was taken as snobbery of the highest order, and the other residents of Forrest Road had all vowed to repay the rudeness tit-for-tat and refuse any social invitations made over the holidays. When none came to anyone, and when on Christmas Eve no carriages or guests ever arrived at the doorstep of number 316 Forrest Road, the good towns' folk of Storybrooke went absolutely mad with curiosity.

This is when the rumors began to spread; a melancholic poet, a poor old Mrs. Havisham locked up in the house forever wearing her wedding dress, a Russian millionaire, horrifically scarred in battle and heartbroken over the death of his life-long sweetheart, a German spy, escaped with state secrets and hiding for fear of discovery and execution, and the stories only ever grew wilder as the years went by.

Emma had moved onto Forrest Road a year ago, when she'd finally completed her education at Our Lady of Miraculous Mysteries School for Ladies, Storybrooke's finishing school, run by the local convent. She'd gone straight from the dormitories at Miraculous Mysteries and into the home of Mr. and Mrs. Darling as a nanny for their three children. The elder boy, John, was old enough to be getting into real mischief and had told Emma and his siblings with a fevered excitement in his voice that he and his friends had ventured onto the 316 Forrest Road property that day, and they had tried to see if anyone was there inside by peeking in through the windows. Emma had cocked an eyebrow at him from where she sat, mending a tear in his jacket, as he described to his siblings the shadowy figure he had seen silhouetted by light from another window, and how the boys had bolted when the dark figure had moved quickly towards the windows as if it had spotted them.

Emma didn't believe in ghosts. Or at least, that's what she was telling herself as she wandered up the road towards the infamous house at the edge of the trees. It was a large structure, with three levels and a spire standing at the front of the house that harkened to a gothic cathedral. A wall of glass made up the conservatory, and opened out onto a sunny terrace in the back of the property. It was not the largest house in Storybrooke, but at one time it had been one of the loveliest. Five years of neglect however, had taken their toll. The careful landscaping that every other house along the street prided itself on was completely overgrown, and the windows all sported a hefty layer of grime where they should have been allowing in copious amounts of sunlight. The house certainly fit the bill for what a haunted house should look like; weeds in the garden, shingles hanging off the siding, potentially creaky-floorboards along the wrap-around porch, and a wrought iron fence that had definitely seen better days with its paint cracked and peeling and the iron rusting away underneath.

Emma stepped up to the bars intending to peer through at the house without actually trespassing onto someone's private property. The Darling boys and their friends might be able to get away with such mischief, all of them being the sons of Storybrooke's wealthier residents, but Emma, a working class girl and an orphan to boot, would likely find herself unemployed and homeless if one of the Darling's neighbors ever lodged a complaint about her. Still the curiosity she felt towards this house had only ever been growing since she'd started her employment with the Darlings.

Emma had heard all the gossip when the hubbub had first started; the girls in the dormitories of Miraculous Mysteries were all the chatty sort that liked such childish things. Emma had always dismissed the stories as silly fantasies created to bring some sort of excitement into the monotony of everyday life in Storybrooke. But Emma's group of friends would always crowd around the weekly newspaper, where the gossip column would always have a new biography for whomever it was that actually lived in 316 Forrest Road, and Emma couldn't help but eavesdrop as they read aloud and laughed over the outrageous stories. It had become something of a point of pride to the small town; whenever someone new would come to visit, number 316 Forrest Road would always be shown off as the "house of mystery." But now that she lived so close to the infamous residence Emma was finding it harder and harder not to simply go up to the door and knock, and put an end to the mystery once and for all.

And so Emma found herself at the edge of the 316 Forrest Road property staring through the wrought iron bars that made up the perimeter fence. It was Emma's afternoon off, one of only two she got a week, and she had decided that she couldn't stand to be inside for a moment longer despite the grey clouds that hung overhead and threatened her with soaking her one good dress through to the bone. The house looked how it always did, silent and abandoned; but there was something about looking in at the house through the iron bars that reminded Emma of a prison.

Could it be that the people who lived there never left the house because they couldn't?

The thought was disconcerting enough that Emma stepped up and climbed onto the lower rungs of the fence so that she could have an unobstructed view of the house, and therefore banish the thoughts of someone trapped within its darkened rooms entirely from her mind. But the bit of the fence she had chosen to climb was one of the more heavily rusted sections, and the fence gave a groan of complaint before collapsing entirely under her weight, sending Emma tumbling onto the front lawn of number 316 Forrest Road. Where she struck her head on the stump of a tree and promptly lost consciousness.

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It was winter and the dormitories at Our Lady of Miraculous Mysteries School for Ladies were freezing cold. Some of the girls had led an exodus out of their own rooms and into the rooms of some of their friends, casting respectability to the wind in favor of not losing one's toes to frostbite before morning.

Mary Margaret, and Ruby had not woken Belle and Emma when they'd knocked on their door. Both pairs of girls were far too cold to find sleep on their own and they were all blissfully relieved when they bundled two girls into each of the narrow beds and huddled close together for warmth; Ruby and Belle in one bed, Mary Margaret and Emma in the other.

Ruby and Belle had found sleep relatively quickly, after the giddiness at the novelty of the situation had worn off. But Emma and Mary Margaret continued to whisper to each other late into the night.

"I'm going to be a school-teacher, when I get out of here." Mary Margaret said, with so much conviction that Emma simply had no choice but to believe her. They were nearly twenty years old, if they had grown up in wealthier families they likely would have been married by now. But instead they still had a year left to complete of finishing school before they would be allowed to pursue either a courtship or some form of employment. Since the school was run by the same convent of nuns that ran Storybrooke's orphanage, Emma had been allowed to attend the school without paying tuition as the other girls had to as a result of her status as an "unfortunate."

"I'm going to leave Storybrooke, and go to the city… maybe even as far as Boston, or New York." Mary Margaret continued, pushing the long braid of her dark hair back over her shoulder.

Emma smiled at her sadly.

"I wish I could hope to get that far." She said.

Mary Margaret got a look on her face that showed she was utterly incapable of ever believing that things just might not turn out exactly the way Emma wanted them to. It was both endearing and immensely frustrating.

"I haven't got any one like you have, Mary. If things don't work out for you, your family will help you. I've only got myself. There's only so much reliable work a woman can find, and if I fail… I'd be ruined."

Mary Margaret frowned, obviously seeing Emma's point, but unwilling to concede defeat.

Suddenly she ginned widely. "I bet you find some rich gentleman to take you away from here. I bet some prince comes to Storybrooke and sees you toiling away in somebody's kitchen, and he falls instantly in love with you and whisks you away from us to be his queen."

Emma couldn't help but giggle. "I don't believe in fairy-stories." She said, though she still smiled at the thought.

Mary Margaret suddenly became very serious, her smile dropping from her face like a lead weight, and she squeezed Emma's hand tight underneath the wool blanket they shared.

"If anyone deserves a fairy-story it is you, Emma."

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The first thing Emma noticed as she began to regain consciousness was the sound of someone shuffling around on a carpeted floor, then the clink of fine china being set down on a metal surface of some sort. Then a sudden deep throb of pain in her forehead, made her groan. Emma opened her eyes, she didn't recognize her surroundings. It was a living room furnished with expensive looking sofas and arm chairs all huddled around a massive fireplace. She could see a cello sitting in one corner.

Where was she? This wasn't the Darling's parlor. What in the world had happened to make her head feel like her skull was caving in?

Emma's last memories were of the dream she had been having. It sent a wave of nostalgia crashing through her chest as she thought of her old friend. Mary Margaret had indeed found her way out of Storybrooke; moving to a small town just outside of Boston, where according to her last letter, she had met a charming farmer. Emma wondered how they were getting on, she hadn't heard from Mary in a few weeks now.

But then Emma remembered what she had been doing before the dream, and Emma sat up quickly when she realized she must be inside number 316 Forrest Road.

"Ah, she returns to the land of the living." Said a male voice from behind her.

Emma whipped her head around and immediately regretted that decision as it sent her head spinning, and made her stomach jump up into her throat as it threatened to spill her breakfast over the room's oriental carpet.

She must have gone deathly pale because the man who had spoken to her suddenly filled her vision, as he caught her from falling forward onto the floor.

"Easy there!" He said as she helped her lay back on the cushions. "I didn't mean to startle you. You took a nasty tumble and hit your head pretty hard. I think you may be concussed."

Emma waited for her vision to swim back into focus before replying, but found herself startled into silence by the man's appearance. He had a mop of brown hair that was well past due for a trim, and a long shaggy beard that covered half his face. Between the beard and the bags under his eyes, and the paleness of his skin his age could have been anywhere between twenty and fifty. The most striking part of his face were his eyes; a bright blue that contrasted sharply with the shadows of his face. His clothes were well tailored and up-to-date with current fashions, which surprised Emma given the unkempt nature of his physical appearance. However, they hung loosely off of his body. The last thing Emma noticed were that his fingertips were wrapped in a heavy gauze.

The man suddenly broke eye-contact with Emma and seemed to withdraw into himself.

"I know my appearance is somewhat shabby, but I had no idea it would be that startling."

Emma shook her head and mentally slapped herself.

"No! It's not that! It's just… this is your house?"

The man looked quite confused.

"It's only that there are stories about this place…" Emma trailed off, unsure if she should continue.

The man nodded, as realization dawned. "Ah, yes, I am quite aware of what people are saying about me."

He gestured vaguely to the coffee table, and Emma spied the local newspaper, the Storybrooke Mirror, wherein all the latest speculation about the occupants 316 Forrest Road was published in the gossip column.

"So, you're not a vampire then?" Emma asked, jokingly while peering up at him from under her eyelashes.

The man laughed in response.

"I'm afraid not." He confessed. "Fiction is so much more interesting than reality, wouldn't you agree?"

"That depends on the reality." Emma replied, meeting his gaze.

The man smiled.

"Well said, Miss…" He trailed off and stared at her meaningfully.

"Swan." Emma replied. "My name is Emma Swan."

He smiled again to himself, and gave an exaggerated bow. "Pleased to make your acquaintance, Miss Swan. I am certain that you'd live up to your name-sake under less trying circumstances than rickety fence posts. My name is Jefferson Dodgson."

Emma nodded her head politely, in lieu of the curtsey that society would have deemed appropriate. But Mr. Dodgson didn't seem to mind.

"The pleasure is mine." She added.

"I saw you through the front window there," He said as if in explanation, and pointed to one of the walls which looked out over the front lawn. It took a moment for Emma to realize that he was talking about her fall. "I do apologize for the state of the place, I'm afraid I'm not well enough to take care of the upkeep on my own."

Emma looked at him perplexed. "You don't have any staff to take care of such things?"

Jefferson made a face. "Err… well, no. And the persons who usually take care of such business for me have evidently not deemed it necessary."

Emma suddenly remembered herself. "I am sorry, it's not my place to pry." She apologized.

"On the contrary, I really shouldn't be so shy about it." He replied, but made no attempt to explain any further.

"I was worried, when I saw you fall." He continued instead. "And then when you didn't get up, I thought it would be best to see if you were alright… the amount of blood in your hair, I had almost thought you were dead. So I brought you inside and I called my physician. He said you were likely just stunned and would recover shortly."

Emma blinked as she tried to digest all of that new information.

"Would you like a cup of tea?" Jefferson asked, standing quickly and moving out of Emma's line of vision. Before she could answer, he returned with a metal tray loaded with a china tea set and he placed it carefully on the coffee table. He began to pour out two cups, only pausing briefly to ask her how she took it. Emma remained mostly silent throughout, completely baffled by the strange situation she found herself in. But as she watched him prepare their tea, she saw his hands trembled as he worked.

"Are you from Storybrooke?" Jefferson asked, attempting to make polite conversation while they sipped their tea.

"I am." She said.

Jefferson smiled at her, encouraging her to continue.

Emma obliged a little hesitantly. "…I'm employed as a nanny for the Darlings' three children. They live just down the road, actually."

Jefferson seemed completely unfazed by her occupation. Strictly speaking, wealthy gentlemen, for that was surely what Jefferson must be if he owned a house such as 316 Forrest Road, did not take tea with nannies, it simply wasn't the done thing.

"I see." He said. "So what brought you onto my property so abruptly?"

Emma blushed. "I apologize for that… I – I'll pay for the fence." Emma had no idea where she'd get the money to do so, but she had been the one to break it.

Jefferson waved his hand in the air as if her words could be banished like smoke. When it appeared that Jefferson was still interested in her answer, Emma obliged him with a response.

"I was curious, is all. There are so many wild stories flying around town about you, and now that I live so close by, I just couldn't resist. I never expected to end up in the house, but life is unpredictable at times I suppose."

"Indeed." Jefferson, leaned back into the arm chair he sat in and inspected her. "Well, I am glad you are not hurt, and it has been so long since I've had any company. It is good to see a face other than my own, and my doctor's. I assure you Victor Whale isn't half as lovely as you are."

Emma found herself smiling at him. "Why don't you have more company then, if you enjoy it?" She asked.

Jefferson's face darkened considerably, and Emma rushed to cover her tracks.

"Excuse me, Mr. Dodgson. Of course, it's none of my business."

But he held up his hand gently to silence her. "Really, it's quite alright. I do realize how rude it must seem, but… I have my reasons." He concluded lamely, with a shrug.

Emma frowned, wishing she hadn't brought it up. Her eyes wandered around the parlor and they caught on a photograph of Jefferson as a young boy, seated next to an elderly gentleman. The one next to it was of Jefferson as a younger man standing in front of a haberdasher's and beaming. Emma recognized it as the hat shop near the center of town.

"Oh dear…" Jefferson said, suddenly and Emma looked up. "It's begun to rain."

Emma turned in her seat and stared out the window where the skies had opened up and were dropping a deluge over the town of Storybrooke. Emma groaned, realizing that not only would she be returning to the Darlings' late, but she would also be absolutely drenched. Emma looked down at herself and concluded that the state of her clothes really couldn't be much worse anyway. Her blouse had been protected during the fall by her coat, but the hem of her walking dress was ripped and large smears of mud stained the fabric. Jefferson had stood and was offering Emma a hand up when she turned around.

"We should get you back to where you came from before it gets any worse." Jefferson said, helping her with her coat and hat.

"I'm not sure it can get any worse." She sighed, and Jefferson laughed in response.

"You might be right." He said as moved over to a closet by the door to the room and pulling on an overcoat, and pulling out a wide umbrella and then finally setting a wide-brimmed pork pie hat on his head. The combination of his wild hair, and wilder beard really made the whole ensemble ghastly, but Emma had a feeling the Darlings wouldn't have wanted anything less when she told them who the man walking her home had been.

"Shall we?" He said, gesturing to the door with an innocent smile.

Emma stepped out onto the porch, not looking forward to the, albeit brief, walk down the road. As she peered up at the clouds to look for any chance of a break in the rain, her eyes wandered down to the hole in the fence where she'd fallen. Emma's hand drifted up to her hair unconsciously, and it felt matted with both dried and fresh blood.

Jefferson finished locking up his house, and prepared the umbrella, before offering Emma his arm so that they could both huddle under the canvas to avoid the raindrops. Anyone within speaking distance would have told them that it was highly inappropriate for a domestic servant to be walking arm-in-arm with a gentleman, but it was raining so no one was within speaking distance and Emma found that she didn't care when he smiled at her happily. Soon they fell into a gait that was comfortable for the both of them.

"It's funny," He said after a moment. "This is the first time I've been outside of that house in years."

Emma chuckled to herself. "It did occur to me."

"Would you mind if I –?" But he was already guiding her around, and they stood in the rain and stared back at Jefferson's house.

"Oh good lord!" He cried. "They told me they'd been keeping up with the repairs…"

The second part did not appear to have been addressed to Emma, or indeed to anyone at all, so Emma simply watched Jefferson as he took in the state of his property.

"This is horrific." He concluded. "No wonder people think I'm a baby-eater…"

Then he began to laugh, and after a moment Emma had to join in as well.

"It's a miracle my neighbors didn't knock the doors down and force me to move out."

Emma shrugged, still smiling. "I think they've gotten used to it. If you change things now, Storybrooke will lose a tourism landmark."

"Come along then, Miss Swan." He said, wheeling them back around. "Nothing for it just now, so let us return you to your rightful place."

Soon enough they came to Mr. and Mrs. Darling's door. It was one of the other servants, a young girl named Ava, who opened the door.

"Mrs. Darling, come quick!" The girl shouted. "Emma is at the door, and she's been injured!"

Mrs. Darling and her children emerged from the parlor, quickly followed by Mr. Darling and their cook.

"Oh, you poor thing!" cooed Mrs. Darling. "You're drenched to the very skin."

The children all clutched at Emma's skirts and told her all at once how they had missed her, and how they had spent the whole afternoon searching for her. It wasn't until Mr. Darling cleared his throat, that anyone else noticed a stranger standing in the doorway.

"Oh, Mr. Darling," Emma started. "May I introduce Mr. Dodgson, he is the man who discovered me after I fell and hit my head on a tree stump…"

"Ah, thank you sir, for assisting Miss Swan, the children are all terribly fond of her, and it would have been a shame to have to find a new nanny for them." Mr. Darling said shaking Jefferson's hand, but obviously having reservations about his appearance.

Jefferson frowned at the man. "And I'm sure the loss of Miss Swan would have been a real tragedy in itself. I've only been acquainted with her this afternoon, but I've found her spirit and inquisitive nature most agreeable…"

"Quite." Was all that Mr. Darling replied, obviously not having the slightest idea what he was talking about.

"Now, where did you say you lived, Mr. Dodgson? I don't believe we've met." Mrs. Darling enquired.

"Just up the road, actually. At number 316." Jefferson replied.

The stunned silence that filled the room could have been cut with a knife, and Emma squirmed uncomfortably as she felt all eyes in the room slide simultaneously from the stranger in the foyer, to herself.

"I was afraid she was concussed by her fall." Jefferson continued, reclaiming everyone's attention. "So I consulted my physician, and he said that you must be sure that she does not sleep for the next twenty-four hours, in case the injury should become more severe."

Mrs. Darling nodded. Being the proper society lady that she was, Mrs. Darling was the first to recover her senses after the shock about the true identity of Emma's rescuer. "Of course, we will see that she is well taken care of, thank you."

"Hooray, no bed-time!" Applauded the youngest boy, Michael.

Jefferson nodded. "Well, I'll leave her in your capable hands Mrs. Darling. Good evening, all." Then he looked at Emma. "Good evening, Miss Swan. It was a pleasure."

Emma nodded back at him from where the children still clutched at her skirts. "Likewise." She replied.

Then he left, leaving Emma to deal with absolute mayhem that erupted with his departure.

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A/N: Let me know what you thought!


	2. Aquaintence

A/N: I've tried very hard to portray Jefferson's illness as accurately and gently as possible, bearing in mind I've changed his issues greatly from the cannon. I do apologize for the delay, minor mental breakdowns and massive amounts of course work have conspired against me.

A note on the history: I've set this story in the late 1890s to coincide with the publishing of Dracula (1897) and the spread of switchboard telephones in the States (1880s-90s).

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Act II

A few days later an invitation arrived at the Darling's door addressed to Miss Emma Swan. Five sets of eyes stared at her intently over the breakfast table as Emma opened the letter to reveal an invitation for tea sent by Jefferson Dodgson.

"How peculiar…" Was all that Mrs. Darling said on the matter, before enthusiastically encouraging her to attend. The woman being far too curious about the town's infamous recluse to worry about silly things like, whether or not it was at all proper for a working-class nanny to be taking tea with a gentleman.

Thus began the friendship between Jefferson Dodgson and Emma Swan.

She would go over for tea every few days while the children were at school, and on her days off while they were on holiday. This pattern repeated for months during which time Emma discovered Jefferson's passion for music, and literature. Emma had never been a particularly studious person during her formal education, but she found herself enjoying it more when the books were borrowed from Jefferson's extensive library collection and came with his enthusiastic recommendations. They would then discuss whatever Emma had read as she completed the tomes. Jefferson did not believe that anything was out of Emma's reach and had her reading philosophy, poetry, Charles Dickens, Mary Shelley, the list was ever expanding.

Aside from pursuing a form of higher education, Emma learned about Jefferson himself, he was an only child, and he had not always been a millionaire. He had inherited his fortune from an obscure uncle, who when he died, and having no children of his own, had favored Jefferson amongst his other relations to receive his estate. Jefferson, up until that point had been running his father's millinery shop and was barely scraping by. But upon the receiving of his uncle's fortune, made from good investments, Jefferson had sold his shop to one of his cousins, and then bought the house on Forrest Road intending to spend some time travelling the world before once more settling down in Storybrooke. However, it was at this time his health had taken a turn for the worse, so Jefferson had been forced to remain in his home indefinitely. He handed over control of the estate to his family, who assured him that everything would be taken care of. Since meeting Emma however, he had begun to reassert himself over his fortune, at least in a small way; enough that all the necessary repairs to the house were made.

Jefferson too learned much about Emma, in turn. Emma was an orphan, she had been born in Storybrooke, and grew up there. She longed for adventure, to travel and see the world outside the small corner of Maine. But Emma had no desire to marry until she was sure she could support a child on her own if she had to, and even then only the most passionate of love affairs would ever convince her that it could be worth it.

But still, despite the turning over of this new leaf, no other guests were ever invited over to the house. So Emma became the town's sole connection inside, and she became a bit of a local celebrity because of it. She couldn't go anywhere without someone coming up to her and interrogating her for details into Jefferson Dodgson. Emma answered the queries as best she could, without breaching Jefferson's confidence, but it never quite seemed to be enough.

There was however one thing Emma had noticed, that is that Jefferson was… odd. In a letter to Mary Margaret, Emma had described some of Jefferson's many eccentrics; not the least of which being his aversion to leaving his house, which he had still only breached once to see Emma to her door. Jefferson was also prone to mood-swings, Emma thought; sometimes seeming quite amiable and happy one moment, and then filled with some sort of melancholy the next. He also suffered from violent muscle spasms every once in a while. He had once kicked the coffee table and sent his tea pot and all his fine china crashing onto the carpet with one particularly violent twitch of his leg.

There was nothing about the situation that wasn't highly irregular, but Emma found herself drawn back time and again. She truly did enjoy the time she spent with Jefferson, he took an interest in her when most of the people she interacted with were more concerned with what she could do for them. It was a refreshing experience to say the least.

But one day she arrived for their afternoon visit, and Dr. Whale's black carriage was standing outside. Emma let herself into the house, as was her custom, and she moved through the rooms searching for Jefferson.

"Mr. Dodgson?" she called. "Are you home?"

"Miss Swan…" A voice called from up the second level, and Emma moved to where she could see up the staircase.

Jefferson stood on the landing, looking more haggard than usual; his shirt was rumpled, partially unbuttoned and untucked from the waist of his trousers.

"Are you alright, Mr. Dodgson?" She asked, taking in his appearance with growing concern.

"Everything's fine, Miss Swan… Why don't you come upstairs? Dr. Whale was just finishing his business with me. I promise, you won't be scandalized."

Emma nodded, and climbed the stairs to follow Jefferson into a spacious bedroom. It was shadowy in the room despite the large windows; heavy curtains prevented light from penetrating the corners. When she entered a man stood from a settee that sat near the large four-poster bed which took up much of the middle of the room.

"Miss Swan, this is my physician, Doctor Victor Whale…" Jefferson introduced, and the doctor stepped forward to shake Emma's hand. "Dr. Whale, this is Emma Swan."

Emma smiled politely as she and the doctor exchanged pleasantries, but she began to feel increasingly uncomfortable as the two men began to settle back into their business.

"I can come back later today, if I am interrupting here now…" Emma suggested, crossing her arms over her chest.

The two men stared at her for a moment, and then looked back at each other.

"You haven't told her yet, have you, Jefferson?" Dr. Whale stated more than asked.

Jefferson leaned forward from where he sat on the bed, and rubbed his hands over his face.

"Miss Swan," he began, "There are some things I haven't told you… about myself. I'm sure you find it odd that my family has such control over my life. The reason for this is that when I inherited my uncle's estate I was under review by Dr. Whale about whether or not I should be admitted to a psychiatric hospital in Boston. My family brought it up to the courts that they do not trust me not to mishandle the money. You see… medically speaking, I am quite mad. Dr. Whale has told me that the mercury from my former trade has affected my brain, and it sometimes causes periods of mental instability and… emotional unpredictability."

From here Dr. Whale continued. "You may have noticed some slight muscular atrophy in Mr. Dodgson's movements, or even some twitching, these are just some of the physical symptoms of Jefferson's malady. The mercury also induces psychological effects. Mr. Dodgson has been in my care for the past five years, although technically I am employed by his family. But I am Jefferson's doctor, and what's more, his friend, we went to the same boarding school in Augusta. I assure you, I have Jefferson's best interest at heart… and recently I feel that it has been threatened."

Jefferson stood from the bed and walked towards Emma slowly. "My family have decided that I am unfit to care for myself any longer, and insist that I be institutionalized if I can't find someone to care for me… Permanently."

Emma's brow furrowed. "How is that legal? Isn't there something you can do, doctor? Can't you tell his family that you feel he is safe on his own?"

Dr. Whale shrugged. "They ceased listening to my advice ages ago, and I strongly suspect they paid off the asylum to take him without question. But their conditions are clear, if Jefferson can find someone who knows about his condition, and who might be willing to live with him and care for him when his condition requires it, he will be allowed to remain in this house; living independently. Or more independently than he would be at the asylum. So I can do nothing more than I already have; you on the other hand, Miss Swan, might be able to do more…"

Realization dawned on Emma and she turned to face Jefferson. "You want to ask me to come live here with you?"

His eyes were hopeful, and he nodded.

"I know it is a lot to ask of you, Miss Swan. You are already employed by the Darlings, and I know their children are fond of you… But I don't have much time, and my list of friends is quite short. My cousins come tomorrow to collect me if I can't find anyone to help."

"I – I don't know…" Emma frowned and thought to herself. She'd be leaving the children, but she'd also be leaving a home where she was unappreciated, and sooner or later the children would outgrow her position… and she'd be out looking for a job anyway. Wendy was almost fourteen… she'd be off to finishing school within the next year.

Jefferson had come to kneel before her. "Emma." He said softly and she looked into his bright blue eyes. "Your fate is in your own hands… You told me once that you wanted more than what you could be within the boundaries of Storybrooke. I do not wish to cage you. If you take this job, I will become dependent on you until I can learn to manage my condition, but the advantage is that we are already good friends. I will see to it that you are well taken care of. But… it will not be an easy job. You see me when I have my good days, my bad ones are… alarming, I have been told."

"I would be happy to brief you on the nature of Jefferson's illness, and how to properly deal with his… episodes." Dr. Whale interjected.

Emma's eyes flicked between the two men, Jefferson's expression was a guarded blank, unwilling to get his hopes up over what was effectively his last chance for avoiding the mad house. Dr. Whale's expression was of resigned sadness; he clearly did not believe that Emma would want to commit herself to the care of a man who was mentally unstable.

Emma glanced around the room trying to make sense of everything that she was feeling in that moment so as to give Jefferson his answer. If she agreed she'd live here, in this house, with Jefferson. She would run his household. She would also be a nurse of sorts. She would be paid to take care of a friend. There was the possibility that she might lose that friendship in the process, should things become too much for her to handle, or if Jefferson began to treat her differently as his employee. But becoming a housekeeper would raise her social status, she'd go from domestic staff to a woman of independent means; making a living salary instead of time-based wages. She would also be in a position to embrace opportunities as they came to her. Should Jefferson decide to travel one day, Emma might be expected to go with him, or she might be asked merely to make sure the house was closed up properly and then be left to her own plans. Should he start a family, Emma could be comfortably employed until the day she retired. Even if he didn't marry he would be required to find her a new position before terminating her employment. It was a risk… no matter what way Emma looked at it there was always the potential for the scenario to turn out extraordinarily badly… but this seemed to be balanced by the fact that this new position would open up a wider world to her. And if Jefferson was true to his word, she would not be caged by this house or this life… In her heart, despite the misgivings, Emma found that she wanted this.

"I'll do it." Emma said quickly, taking the leap before she could second guess herself anymore.

Jefferson blinked, as if he could hardly believe her answer, and a hesitant smile began to flicker over his face.

"You will?" He asked, as if it were too good to be true.

"Yes. But we will have to ask your relatives for a grace period, in which time I will give the Darlings my notice. But yes, you are my friend, and you are offering me an opportunity that I will not get with my current employment…"

"That is wonderful news!" said Dr. Whale and he grabbed Emma's hand shaking it happily. Then turning to Jefferson and giving him a solid clap on the shoulder. Jefferson's breath whooshed out of his lungs in a sigh of relief, and his face broke into a shy grin.

"Miss Swan, you cannot begin to imagine how much this means to me." Jefferson said, still kneeling before her and taking her hands in his own.

Emma smiled and shrugged. "The Darlings already have a housekeeper, and the children will soon outgrow their need for a nanny, it was a dead-end job."

To that Jefferson laughed, and Dr. Whale chuckled politely, clearly not understanding the humor.

Jefferson went down into the cellar and brought up a bottle of champagne for them to toast the good news. It was the first time Emma had ever had champagne and the bubbles tickled her nose pleasantly as she drank the sweet wine. Dr. Whale had seemed to relax in her presence as they drank and he shucked off his heavy coat and loosened the cuffs of his sleeves. Jefferson seemed happier than she had ever seen him before, and utterly relaxed amid the company of his two good friends. The bond of camaraderie strengthened between the three of them as they worked through the bottle of sparkling wine. They spoke and laughed together, Jefferson and Dr. Whale sharing stories with Emma about some of their more humorous appointments, and Jefferson sharing with Dr. Whale some of his memories of the time spent with Emma.

In her mind, Emma began to plan out her new life in Jefferson's house. Firstly, she would tear down all the oppressive drapes and let in a little light. She had no doubt that some of Jefferson's lesser symptoms could be treated with a healthy dose of exercise and sunlight. Then she decided that they would need more staff than just herself to keep the house running, and she mentally made a check list of people she could interview for the positions. Soon the afternoon had wasted away and Dr. Whale was called away by his duties, but before he left he promised to send Emma some literature for her to study up on Jefferson's affliction, and to provide her with some advice on how to see that he was properly cared for.

After Dr. Whale had left, Jefferson asked Emma to stay for a little while longer and talk with him in private. They sat on the sofa in his parlor and Jefferson held out his hand, silently asking for hers. After hesitating for a beat Emma acquiesced and Jefferson ran his thumb across the back of her hand absentmindedly as he smiled to himself.

"What is it?" Emma asked, curiously.

"There is nothing I will ever be able to do to repay this debt to you, Emma…" Jefferson replied, his voice soft. "Though I think I will spend the rest of my life trying… and I must confess, that is not an entirely unpleasant thought."

Emma frowned at his sudden seriousness. "You are my friend, Mr. Dodgson… One of the few I have here in Storybrooke. I was given the opportunity to help you, and I would have chosen to do the same even if it didn't mean a significant pay raise."

"This is the second time you've saved my life, Miss Swan." He said after a moment's pause.

"What do you mean?"

"Before we met, I had given up hope… I knew that I would die in this house, perhaps without ever encountering a single soul. Then you fell through my fence and you rekindled my interest in the world outside my door. You reminded me that the world is not nearly as terrifying as I had led myself to believe, and life is not nearly so boring as it once had been. Perhaps before I would have even welcomed having all responsibility taken away from me at the asylum, but now that I've tasted freedom again I see how precious it is. My family tried to take that away from me, and here you are again, saving my life…"

Emma felt her cheeks start to burn.

"You're family sound like they don't like you very much."

Jefferson shook his head. "They're not so bad as you might think, but they do have a very strict sense of what is right and what is wrong… They never agreed with my uncle's decision to give the bulk of his fortune to me. They thought it would be better going to his living siblings, their own parents, rather than to the son of his disgraced and deceased brother. They are still a bit bitter over that, but there's no real malice in it."

Emma nodded and then smiled at him. "I am glad I could help, though." She confessed. "I would miss this."

Jefferson looked at her in surprise. "I would too."

Then he lifted the hand he still held in his own and pressed a soft kiss to her knuckles. Emma left Jefferson's house feeling flustered. She had chastised him for his roguish smile when he'd noticed her blush as he'd helped her with her coat, but as she walked hurriedly down the street back towards the Darlings' house, she tried to convince herself that her franticly beating heart was in response to the unusual heat of the day, and not the lingering memory of the laughter in Jefferson's eyes.

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Two weeks later began Emma's employment at 316 Forrest Road. It caused quite the scandal when the town got word: an unmarried young lady working as the housekeeper for a reclusive eligible bachelor? The gossip columns practically wrote themselves.

Jefferson had frowned when she showed up at his door the day she'd planned to move in with little more than a hat box and a carpet bag full of her belongings; but he didn't comment and guided her through the house to the room he had thought could be hers. She was given a spacious room that overlooked the back gardens in the same wing as Jefferson's bedroom. The space was dusty from years of disuse, but Emma had never had such a fine, or even such a large room all to herself before. She had been somewhat stunned with Jefferson's choice, it even had its own en suite bathroom! Jefferson had chuckled as she stood in the center of the room, her mouth hanging open and eyes wide with shock. But then he'd asked her if the room suited her and she had grinned at him giddily, and asked somewhat fearfully if he was sure he wanted to give all of this to her. Jefferson had given her an odd look and confirmed with as much conviction as he could muster that he would gladly give Emma anything she desired in return for what she was doing for him, therefore the room was no sacrifice at all. Emma had slept that night in her new four-poster bed with her heart full to bursting with excitement.

Her first course of action as Jefferson's housekeeper, was to tidy the man himself. The morning after she moved in, she dug a straight-razor out of his bathroom and pressed it into his hand along with the rest of his unused shaving kit and asked him to at least trim his beard if not be rid of the thing altogether. Jefferson emerged from his toilette half an hour later with a sullen expression and numerous red nicks over his cheeks and jawline, but clean shaven. Emma then sat him down in the kitchen and took a pair of shears to his wild mop of hair, bringing it down to a respectable length. Though she was rather alarmed to discover that his hair seemed to have a mind of its own and the shorter locks refused to lie flat against his head. But when she stepped back to inspect her work, she found she liked the way his hair swept up into a small coif. But she had to laugh at the slightly violated expression on his face as he patiently waited for her to finish.

All-in-all the transformation was amazing, Jefferson went from looking an undetermined age, back down to the twenty-five years he truly possessed. Dark shadows still hung under his eyes, and his clothes still sat loosely over his bones but Emma was certain that in a few months she would be able to help with that. What she refused to notice, perhaps not for the first time, was that her employer was a truly handsome man; a bit too skinny at the moment but his strong jaw line, cupid's-bow lips, and clever eyes would have been enough to catch any ladies' attention, and perhaps some lads' as well… But she was his housekeeper now, so romantic thoughts like those were not to be entertained or ever acknowledged. Jefferson was a handsome man, that was plain to see, but it was nothing more than an observation on her part.

The next order of business was that Emma took more members onto the household staff, seeing as the household only consisted of Jefferson and herself, not many servants would be required, but for a house as big as 316 Forrest Road some extra hands would be extremely welcome. Her friend from the finishing school, Ruby Lucas, had recently found herself unemployed due to a minor scandal involving the butcher's son, and she was now unable to support her elderly grandmother. So Emma employed Ruby as a maid, and even her grandmother, Widow Lucas, as their cook. When the Storybrooke Mirror discovered this the gossip columns were once again overflowing with speculations. It would soon become a competition between Emma and Jefferson to see who could incite the largest scandal. When Doctor Whale had discovered the Emma had taken on more staff, or more accurately when he had discovered Ruby's great beauty, his appointments with Jefferson became more and more frequent, and he lingered in the house much longer than he used to after concluding his business.

The final staff Emma employed was a man she'd known from her childhood at the orphanage, Augustus Booth, who would be their handy-man, and Jefferson's butler if the occasion called for it. Dr. Whale had specifically suggested that Emma employ a hale young man to be on call if Emma should ever need to restrain Jefferson for any reason. This suggestion had been somewhat startling to her, but she complied nonetheless. 316 Forrest Road needed a man to run the carriage house, and to maintain the chores that Emma and Ruby couldn't do themselves.

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It was three weeks into her employment before Emma saw the first signs of Jefferson's illness. She had begun to think that Dr. Whale and Jefferson's family had conspired to keep him locked up and docile, but she discovered that she was mistaken. There was no exaggeration when it came to the upset that his condition could cause.

She should have realized that there was something wrong when Jefferson did not appear downstairs for breakfast at 9 am, as was his custom. Emma knew that Jefferson was a creature of habit, and any deviation from this self-regulated routine would quickly become a warning sign that something was amiss.

It was midday by the time Emma decided to go up and see if Jefferson was alright. His place was set out as usual at the head of the table, but his toast and hard-boiled egg had not been touched, and what's more his tea had gone cold in the pot. Neither Ruby nor her grandmother had seen Jefferson that morning when Emma went into the kitchen to enquire. She thought that he would have called down for them if he was feeling under-the-weather but it really was odd that he was not here to read the morning papers and compare with Emma the latest ripples caused by their scandalous household.

His bedroom door was shut and locked when she made her way up to the second level of the house. She knocked gently on the door and called to him.

"Mr. Dodgson?" she said. "Is everything alright? We missed you at breakfast this morning."

When no reply came but a series of muffled thumps, perhaps bare feet on hard wood floors, Emma resorted to using the master key which Jefferson had given her to use in "extraordinary circumstances."

When she entered his bedroom, Emma stopped in her tracks at the scene before her. The room looked as if it had been torn apart; clothes which had most certainly been in their drawers and hanging in the closet the previous evening were now strewn haphazardly across the floor. The bed on the other hand did not look like anyone had slept in it for days. Jefferson himself stood in the centre of the room, bare-chested, but wearing trousers (thankfully) and a top hat (curiously). Emma and Jefferson stared at each other across the room, wide-eyed, and wild-eyed respectively, neither one moving for fear of spooking the other. They did not move from where shock had rooted them until Ruby came along a few moments later and jolted them out of their stupor with a rather shrill shriek of surprise. Emma jumped half out of her skin, and Jefferson took this opportunity to none-too gently push Emma out the door and lock it behind her once more, all without saying a word.

It took a well-brewed cup of tea and a call to Dr. Whale to calm Emma down after this incident. Dr. Whale calmly explained that this was likely an episode of Jefferson's condition, and that it was now up to Emma to get him to calm down from whatever had agitated him, and back into a rational mind set. Dr. Whale also assured her that he would come by on the morrow, to check up on them all after this their first real trial.

Dr. Whale, and his associate Dr. Hopper, a specialist in mental cases, had been working with Jefferson to try and discover ways for him to manage his condition on his own. But progress was slow, and Jefferson's family were not patient people. For now it was up to Emma to try and derail the cyclical thoughts and anxiety that frequently characterized these episodes. So once again she found herself gingerly unlocking Jefferson's bedroom door and peering inside, hoping not to agitate him further.

The curtains were drawn across the windows, leaving the room gloomy and stuffy. Jefferson was now sprawled across his bed, still shirtless much to Emma's discomfort, with an arm draped over his face. Emma moved forward to sit by him on the edge of the bed.

"What's happened, Mr. Dodgson?" she asked. "You seemed fine last night."

This seemed to be the wrong thing to say. "I always seem fine, Emma." He said through clenched teeth.

Emma frowned, but ignored this. "You don't seem fine now… Tell me about it?"

"You can't help me, Emma." He said and he moved onto his side, facing away from her and curling in on himself.

"I can't cure you." She corrected him. "But if I can't help you then why am I here? I'm fairly certain helping you was the main reason you asked me to come here."

"It was a mistake, I was a fool to think that anyone could help me… You should have just let them send me to the mad house."

Emma grew angry now. "Jefferson, that's horse-shit."

This seemed to grab his attention and he turned so that he could glance over his shoulder at her. "Miss Swan, I do believe that's the first time I've heard you swear… or use my first name. I'm not sure which one is more scandalous." But the corner of his mouth was quirked into a strange smile.

Emma rolled her eyes at the burning of her cheeks, trying not to let on how flustered she was. "I apologize, sir. But really, Mr. Dodgson what is this about? If you tell me, maybe I can help, but I certainly can't if you won't talk to me."

Jefferson sighed, and moved so that he was on his back again, and he stared up at the ceiling.

"I want to go outside." He said after a moment's pause.

Emma balked. "Is that all!? Then why don't you?"

Jefferson frowned at her, clearly upset by her reaction. "It isn't that simple!" he insisted.

Emma took a deep breath to calm herself, remembering what Dr. Whale had told her about being patient with Jefferson when he got like this. "Why not?" She asked.

Jefferson's jaw stuck out at her like a petulant child and his brows furrowed deeply as he mulled over his answer. "No one will understand." He began slowly, as if admitting this truth were hurting him. "People are cruel, Emma. They might be excited to meet me today, but tomorrow, or the next time? Eventually they will figure it out that I am… strange. Different. And when they do, they will realize that they don't want me in their town, and they'll send me away, lock me up, and throw away the key. That's what they did to my father, and that's what they're going to do to me. That's why I can't leave this place, better it be a cage of my own making."

"The town forced your father into a mental institution?" Emma was shocked.

But Jefferson shook his head. "No," He admitted. "It was our family… but they said that there had been complaints…"

Emma frowned again, but steeled her nerves and in a presumptuous action took Jefferson's hand in her own. "Come into town with me." She said, softly.

Jefferson rolled his eyes, and tried to pull his hand away but Emma held fast.

"I mean it." She said. "Granny needs me to go place an order at the general store, and then after that we can take a walk in the park and be home in time for tea. The fresh air and exercise will do you good, and I will make sure that nothing goes wrong."

Jefferson was looking at her with his eyes wide, there was fear there but also a flicker of hope. It did not take much more coaxing than that to get Jefferson properly dressed and out the door. They did not talk about the incident in the morning until they were on their way home, packages in hand.

"I didn't really mind it before," He said. "When you called me by my given name… When you called me, Jefferson."

Emma couldn't think of how to reply, but she wanted him to continue. "Oh?" was all she said, hoping she sounded encouraging.

"Mr. Dodgson, is so formal… and all it does is remind me of my father… My name is Jefferson after all, and no one uses it much these days, just Victor mostly. You could use it… if you like."

Emma looked at him closely, but he was hiding his face in the shadows cast by the brim of his hat.

She smiled. "Very well then, Mr. Dodgson, from now on I will address you by your given name… but, I would never deign to imply that we were equals by doing so…" She added, just to clarify and cover her tracks.

Jefferson stopped walking abruptly and turned to face her.

"But we are." He said.

"Equals." He clarified at her confused look. "Miss Swan, you and I are of no different social standing than the other. I simply was lucky enough to be in my uncle's good graces when he died."

Emma nodded and tried to hide her smile. "Then I insist that you call me Emma from now on if I am to be calling you, Jefferson."

Jefferson's lips quirked in a crooked smile, he put one foot forward and bowed his head. "Very well, Emma."

Emma gave a mock-curtsey to match his mock-bow, "Very well, Jefferson."

They finished the walk home, grinning at each other as if they shared a secret.

For a time, life was good at 316 Forrest Road. Jefferson's illness did still take its toll, causing him frequent headaches, and bouts of insomnia. There were even the occasional violent rages that August was called deal with, but eventually Emma found she could do much to calm him with a gentle touch of her hand and a few minutes of kind words. It was the anxiety that was the hardest to break him of, sometimes Jefferson would not leave his room for days at a time for fear of what lay beyond the confines of his walls. Emma learned that in these circumstances it was best to just leave him be, and allow him to emerge of his own accord and be there for him when he needed it. But overall, Emma found that her life had improved dramatically since accepting work as Jefferson's housekeeper. Jefferson was a kind employer, aside from being her friend. He made sure that his new staff wanted for nothing. His illness made him painfully shy, but at the urging of Emma and Dr. Whale, he did finally agree to open up his house for an evening to his neighbors. The evening had ended with Jefferson knocking over a tea trolley as he temporarily lost touch with reality to the battle with his daemons, but Emma covered it up as an accident. Despite her best efforts, it had been the talk of the Storybrooke Mirror; but the next time Jefferson sent round invitations for tea everyone still accepted, so they assumed no one had minded too much.

Emma came to realize that Jefferson was like a shattered mirror still held together by its frame; broken, and dangerous should it ever fall apart completely, but also beautiful in its own way.

To be continued…

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A/N: Thanks for reading! Reviews are greatly appreciated, even ones as simple as "Liked it!" There will be at least one more chapter, possibly two. It all depends on where the muse drags me, and how verbose I am in the telling of it.


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